Chapter I

Sometimes death reaches beyond the grave to touch all future generations

---

The day was just like any other after Three Kings Day that fell on a Sunday. Back to school after the Christmas holiday, but so soon that it did not give you a chance to get bored with the toys that were meant for baby Jesus but the three kings left at the foot of your bed after their camels ate the grass you had pulled and placed in a shoe box the day before, next to the bowl of water the camels would need after their long journey through the desert of that holy night.

It first became unusual when he didn’t find his mom waiting behind the wall, where the window with the far apart bars allowed her to hand him his baby bottle filled with that sweet, sweet, perfect mix of coffee, milk and sugar.

Colegio Padre Rufo

He had run to the wall, as he usually did when the bell announced the 15-minute mid-morning recess. But she wasn’t there. Although puzzled by her absence, he did not have time to think it unusual because in a few minutes he found himself making his way back to the school door, joining the growing group of boys who would swarm in when the bell told them fun time was over.

There was nothing unusual for the next hour and a half. Later, he would wonder why he didn’t see the signs. Three kings day on a Sunday? His mother not showing up with his sugared milk and coffee? And he hadn’t felt any apprehension, no sense of dread? His life with his mother had been so different from that of other boys.

Antonio R. Barceló

It had always been just the two of them. His father was that quiet man who sent around the car when they needed it, and sometimes even if they didn’t need it. But his mother despised him. As far as he could tell, his mother hated that he was so involved in politics. That she always came second to the needs of Don Antonio or the party. She hated that he thought himself a poet and spent all the time that was not devoted to politics, drinking and talking literature with that group, Los Seis. She also hated the one they called Luis or Muñoz because he exerted such power over everyone. He had overheard his mother muttering about him. Why does Don Antonio treat him with such affection and listen to him as he would listen to a son? Why does Pepe love him as a brother, go out and get drunk with him every night?

Luis Muñoz Marín

But that day after Three Kings Day, the first unusual thing he noticed was not even a signal, it was a shrill,clanging alarm so loud that that no one could miss it. Except that it went off in his head. It came about a half hour before lunch time, when Miss Rodriguez, the school principal’s secretary, came into his classroom with a note in her trembling hand. Her eyes had darted around the room as though trying to see but avoid seeing something. When the teacher called his name, that’s when he first felt fear fluttering in his stomach. But he walked up to the front of the classroom, defying the fluttering of fear. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a teacher asked him to demonstrate to the other boys the simple formula he had used to solve a math problem. But the teacher didn’t ask him to solve anything on the blackboard; she asked him to go with Miss Rodriguez to the principal’s office.

At the office, the flutter in his stomach grew into a wave. He struggled to keep his mouth closed. He didn’t want to ask any questions for fear they would open a door to something he didn’t want to see. Or maybe something that could not be unseen. Don Narciso was standing next to Miss Garcia, waiting for him by the principal office’s door. He heard himself whimper when he saw Aurora standing there, a few steps inside the office, one or two behind Don Narciso. Aurora looked very unhappy, but there were no tears on her face. As he approached, Miss Garcia asked him to follow them into the office. She told him that Don Narciso had come to pick him up at his mother’s request. But she didn’t say why his mother was asking for him. And he didn’t dare ask.

He walked out though the school gates with Don Narciso on on his left and Aurora on his right. Aurora reached for his hand and he let her have it. That was unusual. The two of them never held hands.

They played together in the yard, they took turns on the hammock under the shade tree, pushing each other to swing for a breeze. They played tag, they hunted for lizards, caculos, ants. They dared each other to step on red ant hills. They had gallito matches in the shallow holes they dug in the yard. They collected guavas from the big tree, climbing up like monkeys. He always climbed higher than Aurora. She was afraid to go all the way up,where the more fragile branches could break and she could fall. They were in charge of pulling the lemons from the lemon tree for the lemonade Miguelina prepared for his mother and Aurora would take an extra pitcher home to Don Narciso and her stepmother. Grosellas, acerolas, bananas, parchas, they had everything in their backyard. And Miguelina was an expert in making refreshing, sweet drinks, marmalades, flans, and dulces with everything he and Aurora brought in.

But that day, he could tell Aurora also felt the fluttering because she reached for his hand.

And they were holding hands when they turned the corner to Magdalena Street, his street. His house was on the lot at the other end of the block. His mother had chosen the lot. It was bigger than the other lots in that street where all the houses had tiny strips of  yards with walls that almost touched each other. His house also looked different, larger, fancier than the others. It was big, with a wide veranda that wrapped all around and trellises covered with treacherous bougainvillea. It would scratch whoever got too close. His mother had fallen in love with the house when she first saw it. But she told Ramon that it was too far away from the city. Her friends would never come to visit if she lived that far away, almost by Loiza. So Ramon bought the lot on Magdalena Street and the house by Loiza, and he had the house moved to the lot. He loved that it had so many windows with dark wood blinds that could be half closed to keep away the hot sunlight in the summer, but left enough room for any loose breeze to come in. The tiled floors were always cool. He loved running in all sweaty from the yard and lying down on those cool floors.

Why were all the neighbors in front of his house? Why was his father’s driver standing next to his car, parked in front of the house? Why were so many people he didn’t recognize milling around the front of his house, some asking questions and taking notes? That’s when the waves in his stomach rose up to his mouth. He had to stop and throw up. Don Narciso and Aurora stopped, too. They stood close together in front of him, hiding him from the eyes of the crowd that had turned to look at them. When the wave subsided, he raised his head and started walking. then running toward his house. He thought he heard someone screaming.

But it was him. He was screaming “No mamá, no mamá, no mamá” all the way to the gate on the sidewalk in front of his house. As he opened the gate, his eyes squinted into the darkness inside the house. Looking for his mother. But he only saw policemen, and his father, and Don Antonio, and Muñoz and Ramon. They were talking quietly. He ran in before they could stop him, ran to the backyard, to his mother’s hammock. And she was lying there, her clothes covered in blood. Her eyes closed.  The year was 1936.

-- To be continued --

2013 (c) A.T.Gelpí